


Smiles Set in Stone

by SunriseinSpace



Category: Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, I Blame Tumblr, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 11:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseinSpace/pseuds/SunriseinSpace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Anyone notice the weird new telephone booth, down off of Poplar?  I mean, who uses payphones anymore?"</p>
<p>"Actually, it's a 1960s British Police Box," Lydia corrects absently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smiles Set in Stone

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://ohvegeta.tumblr.com/post/35469813494/sunriseinspace-trensu-au-run-wolves)

“There’ve been some odd disappearances lately,” the Sheriff says, and Stiles stops, glass half-way to his mouth as he stares at his dad. “I want you and Scott to be careful tonight.”

“Any leads?” Stiles asks, same as he always does whenever his dad mentions a case he’d rather not have affect their lives.

“Not as many as we’d like,” the Sheriff answers, pulling his coat down off the hook by the garage door and slipping his arms through the sleeves. “Just, all the victims were planning on visiting the cemetery, right before they went missing.”

There’s a brief silence as the Stilinskis mull over this clue, Stiles still holding his full glass of milk and his dad fidgeting with his car keys. Neither one of them mention the anniversary coming up next week or their tradition of visiting (albeit, separately, recently) the Beacon Hills Memorial Gardens, but they’re both thinking it.

“Anyway, just, y’know, constant vigilance and all that,” the Sheriff reiterates, visibly shaking off the heavy shadow that’d suddenly descended on the kitchen.

“Oh, my God, Mad-Eye, would you just go? You’re gonna be late,” Stiles laughs, scrubbing a hand over his hair as he meets his dad’s eyes.

“Yeah,” the Sheriff mutters, hand on the doorknob, smiling at his son as he shakes his head. “Love ya, kid.”

“Love you, too, be careful, Dad,” Stiles says, waiting until the car starts and the garage door’s closed before racing up the stairs to start researching, glass of milk abandoned on the counter.

Strange disappearances, plus the cemetery, equal events Stiles is pretty sure he doesn’t want his dad anywhere near. Time to call up the local wolf-pack and get to the bottom of this.

\--

"Anyone notice the weird new telephone booth, down off of Poplar?" Scott asks the next day, smiling lopsidedly as he sets down his lunchtray. "I mean, who uses payphones anymore?"

"Actually, it's a 1960s British Police Box," Lydia corrects absently, skimming over her AP Calc notes as she works on their new problem set. Stiles raises an eyebrow at how quickly her pencil's moving down the page, but knows without a doubt each equation will work out correctly.

"If it's an old British phonebox, what is it doing in Beacon Hills?" Erica asks, pointing toward Lydia with her fork, a limp piece of lettuce speared on the tines.

"Search me," Lydia enunciates, eyes flashing up at Erica briefly before she submerges herself in her homework. She's been different recently, sharper, less prone to downplaying her intelligence. Stiles is sure it has something to do with Jackson's sudden decision to go visit Derek's old pack back in New York.

"Hey, heard anything about those cemetery disappearances?" Stiles blurts, sitting upright and leaning over the table to direct the question to Isaac. He's greeted by wide, blank eyes as Isaac swallows his bite of sandwich and blinks at him.

"There is more than one cemetery in Beacon Hills, you know that, right?" he asks, eyebrow quirked, and Stiles can't help his flail.

"Yes, I know that!" He huffs, crossing his arms on the table and poking his fork at the limp fries on his plate. "But - Beacon Hills Memorial Gardens is the biggest, best-maintained, and generally best-known. Plus, you work there and two of the five missing people have loved ones buried out there." No one at the table points out that both Stiles and Isaac also have family buried there. "My dad says the cemeteries are the only link between the victims. There's nothing else. So," he leans back in his chair, feeling more than a little smug at his well-appointed argument, "spill."

Isaac rolls his eyes and mimics Stiles' posture, while Boyd snorts and everyone else at the table looks at Stiles and Isaac like they're a particularly engrossing tennis match.

"Derek's had us patrolling the cemetery since the third person went missing, but there's nothing there, I swear. The scent trails start at the gates of the cemetery, follow the paths and lanes toward the headstones tied to the missing people, and then just stop." Isaac raises his hands in a so-there gesture and picks his sandwich up again. "They just disappear."

Silence falls as they all think this over.

"I didn't find anything when I started looking last night, but I don't actually have all that much to go on," Stiles says. "Besides the disappearances, has anything else happened at the Gardens recently?"

"Not really. There were a couple new statues delivered a few weeks ago, it's gonna be in the paper next week. Something about replacing and repairing the generalized memorials recently. There were photographers crawling all over the grounds the other day - I was seeing light spots from their cameras for ages after they left, they took so many pictures." Isaac chews for a moment. "Oh, and some vandals keep knocking out all the streetlights along the paths. Keep having to change the bulbs every night."

"Eh, not too suspicious, I guess," Stiles says and they all agree, conversation turning away from the disappearances and back toward school as they finish their lunches.

\--

"Another disappearance and we have no idea what's causing it," Stiles gripes, dragging his hands roughly over his hair as he stretches to pop his back. Derek's been diligent about rehabbing the old place, but there's still a dearth of furniture and sitting on the new hardwood floors is killing Stiles' back.

"Does it have to be supernatural?" Derek asks from where he's rolling paint onto the foyer walls. Stiles leans until he can see the paint speckled over Derek's arms and across his shoulders before shaking his head and swiping a finger over his laptop's touchpad.

"No, but I just have this feeling," Stiles confesses quietly. Something about his voice must catch Derek's attention; there's a small clatter as he sets the roller back in its tray and he's wandering into the living room, wiping at the paint on his hands and crouching to see the computer screen.

Stiles has documents open on each of the missing people, along with news sites posting coverage of the case and the Argent Bestiary in the background. A separate document lists any and all possible connections between the missing people, obviously including the cemetery link, but diverging into the minutiae of their daily lives as far as Stiles can dig. There are various passages highlighted in the Bestiary, but the sheer number of colored sections speak to Stiles' inability to pin down one cause. All in all, it's truly a conundrum.

"All right, what is your feeling telling you?" Derek asks, brushing his side against Stiles' shoulder.

The cursor paces around the screen aimlessly for a moment, then swings across to bring up a minimized blurb from the local paper on the new statuary at the Memorial Gardens. There are no images, but the article enthuses over the inclusion of the new pieces, briefly touching on their provenance before focusing on the impact they have on the cemetery’s aesthetic. Derek wrinkles his nose at how like a tour-guide the article reads.

"These seem really important," Stiles mutters. "First, there's new statues at the cemetery, then people start disappearing from the same cemetery? Seems a little too coincidental to me."

Derek nods absently, skimming over the wealth of information on the screen with this new theory in mind. "Have you talked to Deaton? Does he have any idea how this might be connected?"

"Scott says he's not been at the clinic recently and he’s not been answering my calls. So, no. Think Peter might know?”

“If it’s not in the Argent Bestiary, there’s a high likelihood it won’t be in Peter’s,” Derek mentions, expression telling of both his reluctance to admit this and his frustration with it.

“Where has the creeper-wolf gone recently?” Stiles asks, looking over at Derek with a smirk tugging at his lips. Derek rolls his eyes and pushes to his feet, headed back for the half-painted foyer.

“Checking out a lead. He hadn’t connected the statuary with the disappearances, but he did say there was something he wanted to check out.”

“What?” The frown on Stiles’ face is half-frustration and half-pout and something about it makes Derek look away abruptly.

There’s a noise in the hallway, the sound of the front door opening and closing and footsteps Stiles doesn’t recognize. Derek doesn’t either, if the wary tension in his shoulders is any indication. He’s growling lowly, a rolling buzz of sound Stiles only ever hears when shit’s about to go down, and so, the man that steps into view is so totally not what Stiles is expecting he can’t help the “What?” that falls out of his mouth.

“That would probably be me,” the man says, fingers careful on his bowtie as he stares at them from the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't watch Doctor Who. I've only seen a few episodes and all those were with the Tenth Doctor - none of them involved Weeping Angels. So, I probably won't be continuing this.


End file.
